Regaining
by Harmony21
Summary: Oliver takes comfort from Felicity after a brutal injury in battle.


Laid out on the dirty, wet ground, he gasped for breath, panting with fear and pain. Somehow, with surpreme effort, he managed to raise himself up on one elbow. Both hands clutched weakly at his injury.

Frantic, running footsteps, quite different than those of the furiously battling warriors around him, reached his ears. All he heard was the rustle of clothing.

He tried to see who it was, who would be crazy and/or stupid enough to enter a battlefield with no protection, but the pain from his injury blinded him.

And then, through the haze, he felt _her_. What was she doing here? She should've been safe at home, away from the battlefield and the bloodlust.

Just like the other warriors, he was guilty of succumbing to his most basic, ancient instincts. It was what he was supposed to do, protect his loved ones; and if he had to give over to his beastial side, so be it. Unlike some of the men, he did what he needed to, and not only for himself.

He cried out as she laid a tender hand on his cheek, his name a soft exhalation as she checked him over.

Her gentle touch grounded him, kept him from disappearing into nothingness.

Without her, he was nothing at all; he existed only for her. But right now, it was hard.

She tried to get him to move, to leave the battlefield for somewhere safer. With her encouragement, he managed to get to his feet, swaying dangerously.

For someone so small compared to him, she was able to keep him upright. He breathed shallowly, feeling sick. His injury still hurt.

Avoiding the wild swings of nearby combatants, she urged him forward; they'd only gone a few paces when he felt it: the dark, cold ice of hatred and evil.

He tried pushing her away, but she refused to let go of him.

Go, he told her. Get somewhere safe. The enemy was coming and he flatly refused to have her in danger.

But she refused to leave without him, defiance flaring to life in her eyes.

He repeated himself, but when she refused a second time, he had no choice.

 _Get out of here!_ He roared, fear, pain and rage finally setting off him off.

If they somehow managed to get back home, they would return to and talk about this moment, he knew. Now was not the time.

Her own anger sparking, she looked past him at the rapidly approaching army, the vast force that had overrun his group.

To his complete and utter shock, she planted herself in front of him. The enemy was bearing down on them, coming right at her, and then –

She opened her mouth and a tidal wave of sound, a devastating tsunami erupted out of her, flattening all in its path.

And just like that, the battle was over.

Gasping with surprise and pain, he stared at her as she turned back toward him, confidence and relief blazing in her beautiful eyes.

It was then he noticed the black collar around her neck.

Everything in him stilled.

Though she had never used it before, she was wearing the Canary collar.

Desperate, he reached for her, needing to know, to understand why she would put herself in such danger.

Murmuring reassurances, she wrapped her arms around him, holding him steady as he poured his relief, happiness, and every other emotion he was feeling into the hug.

Finally, she let go, watching him critically. He didn't have to see the look in her eyes to know he was still a mess.

Feeling only slightly better now that she was here and the enemy gone, he nuzzled her, needing her strength.

Her left hand went to his cheek again, and her right pressed firmly over the wound.

For the briefest of instances, he hissed, but the pain slowly receded, and he was able to breathe better.

After such a fight, he was starved for her, for the thing that kept him sane, kept them together. His eyes closed of their own accord and he breathed slower, deeper. He didn't need to see her smile to know she wanted him with her, where he belonged.

He was hers, completely and utterly. He had sworn himself to her for the rest of forever from the moment she'd chosen him.

Giving himself over entirely to his other half, though there was no fighting to do, his physical body began to fade. His form shrunk and condensed to something like brilliantly coloured smoke, and he laid himself in his usual place, over her heart.

She pulled down her shirt slightly to check on him, and he felt her smile at the sight of his heart-shaped tattoo.

Ahh, he was home. The battle was over and done, and he was with his woman. She was his light, his love, his life.

There was nowhere else he'd rather be.


End file.
